


Haven't I seen you somewhere before?

by DarknessAndFyre



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel and Demon True Forms (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Stolen Memories, heaven/hell at war, hurt/angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:53:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23700367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessAndFyre/pseuds/DarknessAndFyre
Summary: The apocalypse happened. The war between heaven and hell happened. But can a former angel and a former demon find each other in this mess of a plotline?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	Haven't I seen you somewhere before?

He awoke to screaming. It was a while before he realised that the sound was coming from himself. Always dreams, well, nightmares, of a ball of spinning searing light and many, many blank eyes.

The apocalypse had actually happened. Adam had turned and joined his Satanic father. The rest of humanity had vanished, into the ether. Heaven and Hell had got their great battle with each other, using Earth as their Battlefield. The Earth was now desolate in places, in other places, it remained untouched. A few pockets of humanity were valiantly surviving the best way they could, holding onto some semblance of normality.

London had mostly came out unscathed from the war. Some landmarks were gone, yes, but as the war had mostly been fought in the deserts, most of the population were ok. 

Across the city, pale blue eyes startled awake and frightened. But, not for himself. He’d been having a nightmare again. Too many nightmares lately. It was always the same dream. All he could remember was vivid molten gold eyes and huge black wings. Snarling fanged teeth and scaly skin broke through but he never felt frightened, for himself. Just incredibly scared for this creature that he always dreamt about. 

Azira just felt incredibly sad and lonely, like he had lost someone but, he couldn’t remember who it was. He’s spent the majority of his life alone, he hadn’t any siblings and his parents were gone, lost in the war.

Antony padded out to his kitchen, taking a glass out and striding over to the sink. He turned the tap and clear water poured out. He turned the tap off and brought the glass of water to his lips, gratefully gulping it down. He thought about his nightmare. His dreams weren’t always like that. He sometimes dreamt of white cloud like soft hair and pale blue eyes. So blue, like the sky on a summer’s day. He felt that he knew this person, this man, but he couldn’t recall where from.

For Heaven and Hell, it was a quiet time, to regroup. Neither side had won, they had both had to reluctantly back off because otherwise, both sides would have annihilated each other. What would have been the point of that? No winners.

God and Satan had met and had agreed to stop the war. The cost was proving to be too high. Not only for the humans who lived on their preferred battleground of Earth but for Angels and Demons themselves. Both sides had metaphorically washed their hands of both traitors, the Angel Aziraphale and the Demon Crowley. They had been taken care of, Gabriel and Beelzebub had taken away their memories. They had replaced Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s memories with false ones, of two humans, Azira and Antony. Two humans that had a feeling that their soulmate was out there somewhere, if only they could meet.

Azira dressed carefully in his preferred clothes, those being a smart old fashioned suit with an overcoat and an old threadbare waistcoat. He honestly didn’t know why he hadn’t bought himself a new waistcoat, as a treat for making it through the war, unscathed. He had always hated fighting. It didn’t sit comfortably with him. But, as he smoothed down the pockets and felt the trusty pocket watch and chain there, he thought,  
“No, this gives me comfort so, it stays.”

The pocket watch and chain had a history all of its own, separate from the waist coat. They had been paired together by Azira, yes, that much is true. But, each had its own history that was conveniently wrapped up with another man shaped being. But, that story is for another time.  


Azira walked the streets of London and found himself stopping to stare into an old derelict bookshop. It felt familiar to him. Even though he had never had walked through this area of Soho. It seemed as though the whole of Soho was calling him.  


Antony was in his flat, deciding on what to wear from his vast wardrobe, honestly, why did he have so many clothes? But, in the end, he picked up his old black skinny jeans and paired it with a tight red shirt with a smart jacket. He threaded his slivery long scarf through his hands. He felt a tingle of recognition, of blue eyes staring up at him. Antony had the weirdest feeling that he knew those blue eyes, but he couldn’t recall where from.

A few days had passed. Azira enquired with the relevant council about the derelict shop. It seemed as though the owner had disappeared, probably caught up in the war. But, the shop had been bought outright and all of the bills were paid up. The council saw no problem with Azira taking on the bookshop for a while. Azira felt sure that the previous owner wouldn’t have minded. He picked up the keys and strode back round to the derelict building. However, as he approached, the door unlocked and opened. It was like the shop knew him and was welcoming him home. Odd? Had he been here before?

Just before he left his flat, Crowley’s eyes landed on a bunch of keys. On closer inspection, it looked as though one on those keys was a car key. He took the lift down to the basement level. He strode out into the parking level and looked for the corresponding number bay. His eyes grew wide when he realised a Bentley was parked there.  
He climbed into the car, it seemed as though the car was welcoming him back? Huh. So, that was a thing. As he started the car, he felt as though there was something, no, someone missing. He looked instinctively over to the passenger side, a ghost of a person shouting,  
‘You go too fast for me Crowley!’ Definitely strange.

Another few days passed and Crowley was in Soho. He inadvertently parked near to the bookshop. He had the weirdest impulse that he had to go to a local bakery and buy some decadent cakes. Well, more than an impulse, a compulsion let’s call it. As he came out of the cake shop, he looked down at the cake box and shook his head,  
“What am I doing?” 

He walked over to the bookshop and peered in. He could see white curls bobbing up and down between the shelves. His stomach flipped, like recognition?! He peered upwards to the bookstore signage.  
“A. Z. Fell and Co.”  
Nope, no recognition there. Cool blue eyes met with molten gold ones. Azira came to the door.  
“We’re not open yet, I’m afraid.”  
A name rose up Antony’s mind  
“Aziraphale, it’s me, Crowley. Let me in.”

With that name, Azira let Antony in and the walls containing their false memories came crashing down around them.

Somewhere, not of this world, a telephone rang.  
“Gabriel.”  
“Beelzebub.”  
“We have a problem.”


End file.
